Pizza Pizza
by eternite z
Summary: Laguna enters a free pizza give-away!
1. The Great Phone Call Game

**Author's Note:** Spruced up and finally finished, this is...Pizza Pizza version 1.2!! And it only took me three years! I am teh cool!!1 

Comments, complaints, suggestions, sushi --> emi(at)overthrown.nu

All standard disclaimers apply. You're a crazy fool to think I own the rights to this game. ...a crazy fool...

--------------------

**Pizza Pizza   
Chapter 1: The Great Phone Call Game**

_Click!_ A raven-haired man picked up the phone that sat next to him. He rapidly began to dial a number, fingers flying gracefully, yet nervously, over the buttons.

_Ring._

No answer.

_Ring._

Again, no one answered. The man began to sweat profusely, cursing himself for not calling the other number he knew. But, no, he had decided long ago that this was the right choice. The right choice.... Could he be wrong? Did he, the almighty ruler of Esthar make...a mistake? No, of course not! he said mentally with a laugh.

_Ri_-

"Hello, this is Little Caesar's™. How may I help you?"

"Hello?! Hello?!"

"Can I help you, sir?" the boy on the other end of the phone asked. He spoke slowly and uncertainly, unsure of the mental stability of his customer.

Halfway across the city, Laguna sighed in relief. It worked. "Yes!" he all-but shouted into the phone. "I would like a large pepperoni pizza with bacon and extra cheese."

"And where would you like that delivered?"

"The presidential building between First and-"

"Yeah. Right."

_Click!_

The boy, thinking it was a prank call, hung up.

Furious, Laguna yelled, "Dammit!", and threw the phone in the general direction of its receiver. "That's the eighth time this week!"

"Laguna, what's wrong?!" Kiros and Ward ran into his office, afraid for his safety. "We heard yelling and-" Kiros paused when he saw the pile of pizza coupons spread across the floor. "You told them to deliver it to the presidential residence again, didn't you," he stated, pursing his lips and staring down at the man in the chair as if he were reprimanding a child.

"So?" Laguna spat. "That's where I live and that's where I'd like it delivered." His bottom lip puffed out in a pout.

"Why don't you tell them somewhere else, then pick it up there? They think you're some punk kid making prank phone calls."

"Because I'm the president and I have my own army," he said, folding his arms.

Ward and Kiros sighed. Simultaneously. That happens sometimes.

Kiros muttered, "Do what you will....", before both he and Ward took to the task of helping their pizza-deprived leader gather up all of the scattered coupons.

--------------------

Days passed without success. Laguna even tried several different pizza restaurants, just to be shot down by some smart-mouthed kid who thought they knew everything. He was getting desperate, his tastebuds yearning for a slice of tomato-saucey goodness, coated in three different kinds of cheese, and sprinkled from edge to edge with sweet, cooked animal flesh. He needed time to think; to devise a plan. Music is supposed to help with that kind of stuff, he thought. Laguna walked over to his radio and turned it on.

_"-third task. So, we've decided to give away a year's supply of free pizza to the 500th caller!"_

Laguna's head shot up and his ears perked. He unknowingly stopped breathing, excitement and nervousness taking control of his body. He scrambled closer to the speakers to listen for the number, and he would have passed out from lack of oxygen had he not accidentally ran into the corner of his desk and gasped briefly in pain.

_"The number to call is....."_

"What? What is it?!" he shouted at the small device.

_"Ha ha!"_ the man on the radio laughed good-naturedly. _"Sorry to keep you in suspense. The number to call is..."_

"Tell me!" Laguna urged, picking the radio up in his hands and shaking it violently.

_"Everybody ready? Here it is: 1-451-E3204. That's 1-451-"_

Laguna wrote down the information on a yellow post-it and stuck it on his desk. Post-its are neat.

_"-3204. Remember, I'm looking for the 500th caller! Start ringing!"_

"I am! I am!" He jerked the phone to his ear and dialed the number.

"Sorry, you're number 23."

Laguna reset the phone and pressed redial.

"Sorry, you're number 123."

Again, he dialed the number.

"Sorry, you're number 223."

"C'mon!"

"Sorry, you're number 323."

"What the...?" He pressed redial.

"Sorry, you're number 423."

"Okaaaay, there's no way I'm winning," he said solemnly. 23 never was his lucky number.

_Ring._

"Huh? I-it's ringing!" The president held the phone tighter in excitement.

"Hello, YOU'RE our 500th caller! Congratulations!"

"Ah! I won! I won! I-"

"No, no. You haven't won _yet_, sir," the disc jockey informed.

Laguna's shoulders slumped, mouth hanging open in disappointment. "I haven't...?"

"No, but if you complete the three tasks, you do!"

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "What are they?"

There was a long, awkward pause, and Laguna wondered if the connection had been lost.

"...Haven't you been listening to my show?" the man asked finally, sounding perturbed.

Laguna's brow knitted and he pulled at his shirt collar out of nervousness. "Err...yes, I love it..." he mumbled, not wanting to offend. Truth be told, he didn't even know what station he was listening to.

"Well, good! Now, the three tasks are-" A drum roll resounded before the man continued. "One: Send us a picture YOU took of the president. You must also be in the shot. The president will be speaking at the yearly parade, so you have a good chance of seeing him. Your photo will be judged by our panel, so try to make it innovative. And of course, the closer, the better! If your work is accepted, you can go on to the next round!"

"Heh, heh. No prob!" Laguna smirked to himself. He was as close to the president as anyone could ever hope to get.

"If you make it to level two, you will have to... Call up a friend or family member live on the radio, and coax them into picking up your dirty laundry from your house and taking it to get cleaned. But you may not tell them WHY. So, don't mention the contest."

"And three?"

"Do one and two first, then we'll talk."

"Alrighty!" Laguna answered smiling.

"Good luck, sir!"

--------------------

"A picture of the president? Ha! I'll just...wait. He said I have to be in the picture too, but how can I be in a picture with myself?....Is the president even allowed to participate?" He rubbed his chin in thought. "Damn. I'll have to pretend I'm someone else."

Laguna walked into the main hallway and spotted his dear friend Kiros. "Kiros! Yo, do me a favor!" he yelled, running towards the other man. "Here." With no other warning, he pulled Kiros beside him and raised the camera above their heads.

"Oh, no you don't!" Kiros protested, pushing Laguna away. "I don't want my picture taken!"

Laguna looked surprised. "Why not?"

"You've blackmailed me too many times! I didn't make out with that antelope! You just rendered the picture on your computer, then posted it on the web!"

"Kiros," Laguna began, softening his voice. "I would _never_ do anything like THAT."

"Tch."

"Fine! I'll find a passer-by and get a picture!"

The president stormed off, leaving Kiros utterly confused.

--------------------

Arriving at Esthar's main square, Laguna began to search the crowd. "All right. Now who would make a good me?" Many citizens walked by, but none caught his eye. "What does it matter? I'll just pick someone....Sir! Please stop a sec!" he pleaded, walking toward a man about his age. The man didn't recognize him as the president (what is this world _coming to_?), which was all the better for Laguna.

"Yes?"

"I'm a tourist, and I was wondering if you'd let me take a picture of the two of us." Before the man could object, Laguna added, "I find your country very fascinating, and would love to get a picture with a native." The man was still unsure, but Laguna smiled cheesily, and it won him over.

"Oh, all right. Where would you like me to stand?"

"Right here's fine!" The man didn't have time to smile, Laguna snapped the photo of them and ran off.

--------------------

"Get that picture developed?" Kiros asked, a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

"It's a digital camera, so all I gotta do is hook it up to the comp and I'm ready to go!"

Laguna plugged in several small wires, connecting the camera to the computer tower. A few clicks and the entire contents of the camera appeared on screen. Laguna skimmed through the thumbnails, landing on the lone picture of the tourist and...

"Where am I?"

"Yes... Where _are you_?" Kiros snickered.

"What the hell?? That should have taken!" Laguna all-but screeched.

"Laguna," addressed Kiros, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Digital cameras have replaced normal cameras because they are more convenient to use."

Laguna gave him an irritated look.

"There's so much one can do with a digital camera... One can upload and print out photos in the comfort of their home..."

Laguna's mouth turned into a thin line, then a frown.

"One can erase pictures and not have to buy new film..."

Laguna snaked out an arm and unplugged the camera.

"And one can _see_ the picture they took immediately after they snap the button. Why didn't you take the time to loo-"

In one swift movement, Laguna turned the camera to face himself and Kiros, who, unfortunately, was still standing behind Laguna's chair. The flash went off, Kiros was blinded, and Laguna jumped from his seat and made his escape.


	2. Family Sticks Together Like Socks

**Chapter 2: Family Sticks Together Like Socks in the Dryer**

Two weeks later, the radio station gave Laguna a confirmation phone call telling him they received and accepted his photo. (It took two weeks, for Laguna forgot to write the station's address, then tried to send the envelope air-mail when the radio station was a few blocks away, and then the price of postage was raised without warning. Hence, the same envelope came back to the presidential building numerous times. When it finally reached the disc jockey, it was covered in "Return to Sender" stamps scribbled over by black marker.) 

_Ring._ Laguna snatched the phone to his ear. "Hello!" 

"Hello, Mr. Loire?" 

"This is me - er - he." 

"Good! Are you ready to call someone up and ask them to take your laundry to get cleaned?" 

"Sure am!" he replied cheerfully. 

"Now remember, you _can't_ tell them _why_. Just go ahead and dial the number like you'd normally do and we'll be here listening." 

The president shook his head in response, despite the fact that the man couldn't see him. He quickly punched in an area code and seven-digit number. The ringing quietly hummed on his line, then stopped and was replaced by a hollow click. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey, son!" 

"......" 

"......" 

"......" 

"......" 

"......" 

"......" 

"......" 

"......" 

"...Laguna." 

"Yup, it's me! Listen Squall, I got dirt all over my clothes when I gave Pooky his bath-" 

"Isn't Pooky your goldfish?" Squall questioned. 

Laguna immediately faked a coughing fit, allowing him more time to think of a response. "...Oh, Pooky died, so I got a dog and named him after the deceased," he said slowly, as if in mourning. 

"Someone actually sold you a dog?" 

"Yeah...Why wouldn't they?" 

"It's just-" Squall paused shortly. "Nevermind. What did you want?" 

Laguna brought the receiver to his other ear. "I was wondering if you could take some of my dirty clothes to the laundry." 

"No." 

"Aww, c'mon!" 

"No." 

"Just a few socks?" 

"NO." 

The president tapped his fingers on his desk nervously. "Hey!" he whispered. "Can I bribe him?" 

"What? Bribe who?" Squall questioned. 

Another muffled voice came over the line, this one Squall could not identify. "Whatever, just get him to do it!" it growled. 

Laguna tried once more, now using his normal tone. "How about if I give you a twenty?" 

"Laguna...Who were you talking to?" 

He laughed heartily, then totally disregarded Squall's question. "So how 'bout it?" 

"WHO were you talking to? Who's there?" he demanded. 

"I've got a lot of land here in Esthar. I'll sell you a share if you wash my clothes." 

"What the _hell_ is going on over there?" he inquired angrily. "I don't have time to wash your clothes. Don't you have maids that do that stuff?" 

"I-" 

"You're the most powerful man in the world. I think you could find SOMEONE to clean your clothes other than your own flesh and blood." 

"I-" 

"You know how many tests, missions, and junior delinquents I have to take, go on, and see today?" 

"Actu-" 

"I'm busy. Don't call here again!" 

_Click!_

Laguna stood silently for a moment, somewhat alarmed at what his son had just done, although he had done it before... "Can I call up someone else?" 

"Uh..." 

"It'll only take a sec!" He punched in a number and waited for someone to pick it up. 

No more than two seconds passed before a female voice resounded through the line. "Good day, Mr. President. How may I help you?" 

"Hello, Claire!" he greeted cheerfully. "Do you mind cleaning a load of my laundry?" 

"Of course not, sir!" she laughed. "You're always so polite! I'll get right on it, buh-bye!" 

_Click!_ The presidential maid hung up and started toward Laguna's office. 

Laguna nodded proudly to himself. "Tada!" 

"Did she call you 'Mr. President'?" the radio announcer asked. 

"Er...yes, that was my nickname in high school..." he explained. Somewhere in the distance, Kiros groaned. 

"Well, congratulations, Mr. Loire! The judges have decided to overlook the first phone call because it boosted our ratings! Looks like you get to go on to the third round!" 

--------------------

Double-doors flew open as a giddy Laguna bounded into the common room. 

"I get to go on to the third taaaask!" he sang. Kiros and Ward regarded him uninterestedly. 

"We know," stated Kiros coolly. 

Laguna's face dropped. "How did you know?" 

"We tapped your phone line." 

There was a brief silence, Laguna contemplating the matter quietly to himself. 

"Oh," he said, lowering his arms that had been raised in victory. 

"We have tape after tape of your phone conversations," continued Kiros, motioning to a stack of small cassettes. Laguna still didn't get it. 

"Oh," he repeated, staring blankly at the pile. 

Ward sent Kiros a look. 

"We could probably blackmail you with some of them." He paused, waiting for the president to catch on. "If it was ever necessary." 

Laguna scratched the back of his head. "...You want some of the prize?" 

"Hell yes." 


	3. Get Down with Your Medieval Self

**Chapter 3: Get Down with Your Medieval Self**

"We're going to hold a small party for you," the disc jockey said, about to inform Laguna of the third task. 

"Cool." 

"But! You must get at least ten guests to come." 

Laguna's brow wrinkled slightly. "There's a catch to this, isn't there." 

"Tell them it is a theme party. The theme this year shall be-" An artificial drum roll resounded from behind the man. "-The Black Plague!" Trumpets played a victory tune. 

"Black Plague?" 

"The Black Plague!" Trumpets were blasted once again. 

"....Black Plague?" 

"Yes! If you can still get ten people to come to your party, you win!" 

A sudden burst of confidence surged through Laguna. "Alright!" 

"We'll set up our show down at the concert hall this Saturday at 8:00 p.m.! Be there!" 

--------------------

Now all he had to do was make a few quick phone calls, then sit back and wait for those pizzas to arrive at his doorstep. The president picked up his phone and dialed the number he knew so well. 

_Brrring, click!_

"Hey, son!" 

"......" 

"I'll save us some time... It's me, your father!" 

"...Laguna." 

"I'm having a party Saturday," he explained, "and was wondering if you'd like to come." 

"I...uh..." 

"Free food!" he said, knowing how much teenagers love free food. 

"We'd _love_ to, Laguna!" 

"Rinoa, get off the other line." 

What luck! Rinoa's there! "Great!" exclaimed Laguna. "Oh, and it's a theme party, so dress accordingly." 

"Really? Sounds like fun. What theme is it?" she asked. 

"The Black Plague!" 

"....Black....Plague?" 

"Yup! It'll be a ton of fun; we're going to have little plastic rats everywhere and -" 

A creak could be heard on the line as Squall readjusted his grip on the phone. "WHY would you choose an epidemic as the theme for your party?" 

"Well...Everything else has been done to death." Laguna paused. "No pun intended," he added. 

"Only you, Laguna..." 

"So, I'll take it that you're coming!" 

"Wait, I-" 

"Hey, why don't you invite all your friends, too?" 

"I don't-" 

"See you 8:00 p.m. Saturday at the concert hall!" 

_Click!_

"Dammit, Rinoa," Squall groaned, massaging his forehead. 

"C'mon, it'll be fun!" she chirped, wrapping her arms around his chest. 

"Dammit, Rinoa." 

"It'll be fun!" 

"Damn, damn, damn, damn." 

"Fun, fun, fun, fun!" 

Squall passed out. 

--------------------

"I can't believe I'm here." 

The leader of Garden stood stiffly in the middle of the concert hall, arms folded across his chest. 

Rinoa smiled warmly. "Now don't be upset!" she urged. "I'm sure this'll be great! See, everyone else is having fun." She pointed to her left at the food table, where Zell, Selphie, and Irvine were stationed. 

Squall stared blankly at the trio, then rolled his eyes. 

--------------------

"What _is_ it?" questioned Selphie, poking what seemed to be a jello mold with a fork. "What's that black stuff in it??" 

Irvine leaned closer, inspecting the gelatin. "It looks like bugs!" he exclaimed. 

Zell's brow wrinkled. "That's kinda gross." 

"Hey, everyone! Are you having fun yet?" Laguna walked cheerfully over to the group, ignoring the weird stares they gave him. "Oh! Did you try the jello mold?" 

"I think there's something wrong with it," said Selphie, hoping Laguna would fix the problem and retrieve another, perhaps _clean_, gelatin dish. 

"You mean the fleas?" 

Zell looked at him in disbelief. "Uh, YEAH." 

"This is the _Black Plague_!" he exclaimed, shrugging it off. "You can't just eat whatever you want and expect it to be removed of all disease! Geez! Kids these days!" Laguna threw up his arms in frustration and walked back to the other side of the room. 

Selphie clutched her stomach, half leaning over. "I don't think I like this party," she whimpered. 

"You okay, Sef?" asked Irvine, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Here, I'll get you some punch." 

The gunman strode over to the punch bowl and picked up the ladle. Yet before he even scooped up any of the drink, the ladle flew from his hand as he stepped back in shock. "What in the hell is this?!" 

Zell ran over, intrigued by Irvine's sudden outburst. "What? What's wrong?" 

"This party is messed up," he grumbled, pointing to the plastic rats sitting around, and in, the punch bowl. 

--------------------

The president of Esthar remained in a corner of the room, carefully counting how many guests had arrived. He needed ten, but there were only eight... 

"Argh... I've come too far! Squall _must_ know more than eight people!" he complained. "...Wait. Kiros and Ward! Of course!" Laguna smacked his head on the realization. He remained stunned for a moment, having hit himself too hard. When the room stopped spinning, he quickly made his way over to Squall, hoping the kid would have a phone on him. 

"Let me use your phone!" he pleaded. 

"....Hello." 

"Let me use your PHONE!" Laguna repeated, more demanding. 

Squall looked at him silently. 

"How are you?" 

The president sighed in agitation. "Son, please let me use your phone. It's an _emergency_!" 

"Just give him the cell!" Rinoa commanded. Squall reluctantly gave in as Rinoa continued, "Honestly, can't you be nice to your father _just once_?" 

"Right. He comes over here screaming at me to give him my cell phone - which, might I add, I'm paying long distance charges for here in Esthar. Then I ask him how he is, and you scream at me!" 

"Thanks, son!" yelled Laguna as he sprinted off towards the corner again, attempting to dial as he did so. 

Squall called after him, "You're paying the bill!" but either the president didn't hear, or he didn't care. 

--------------------

_Ring._

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" 

_Ring._

"Please, oh please, oh please!" 

"Ye-llo." 

"Ward!" exclaimed Laguna, excited that someone answered. 

There was a short pause on the other end. 

"It's Kiros," said the voice slowly. "Ward is mute, remember Laguna?" 

"Oh, yeah," he mumbled, scratching his head. "Well, anyway! You guys gotta get down here right now! I'm short two people and if that disc jockey gets here before you do, I won't win!" 

"You know I only stick around because you're the president." 

"I don't care! Just get your rear in gear and come to the concert hall!" 

"Seriously, one of these days I'm going to assassinate you and then overthrow the government." 

"Whatever, just get your butt down here!" 

Kiros sighed audibly, shaking his head and smiling slightly. "Alright, alright. After all you went through, I guess it would be cruel of me to ruin your chances at winning now." 

"Bring Ward!" 

"I know." 

_Click._

Perfect. This was going to work out after all. Laguna grinned, thinking about how spectacular it was going to be to be able to have pizza whenever he wanted. No more teenagers hanging up on him, no more having to go to town to pick up the pizza... It would actually be delivered to _him_. 

"What's with the stupid grin? Are you done with my phone yet?" asked Squall as he approached the older man. 

"Yeah, here you go, son!" answered Laguna cheerfully. 

Squall snatched the device from his father's hand, somewhat leery as to why he was so happy. The commander eyed Laguna suspiciously as he left. 


	4. It All Comes Down to This

**Chapter 4: It All Comes Down to This**

"We're here!" announced Kiros, waving from the concert hall entrance. He blinked - literally - and there was Laguna, standing in front of him. 

"Oh great HYNE, where have you been??" the president screeched. 

"You called us 10 minutes ago; we came over right away." Kiros and Ward appeared a bit agitated, Ward especially. He was missing the season premier of his favorite sitcom for this. 

"Well, stand over there and look guest-like!" Laguna pushed the two into the small crowd. Kiros tripped into Selphie and Ward nearly squashed Irvine. 

"Heeeeey!" Selphie squeaked. Kiros mumbled an apology, head turned to give Laguna an icy stare. 

"Can't-feel-myfoot!" 

Ward looked in surprise at Irvine, whom he didn't even notice was there, and politely removed himself from the smaller man's foot. The Galbadian shook his leg several times, attempting to coax the blood back into flowing. Squall, who just-so-happened to glance Irvine's way at that time, sighed in disgust as he thought the man to be making obscene gestures of the sexual nature. 

Zell grinned, amused by the normally cool and confident Irvine hopping around like a maniac. "Don't wear steel-toed boots, cowboy?" 

Irvine stopped mid-jump and turned his gaze on Zell. "No, but I have some spurs I could stick up your-" 

"STOP IT!" Selphie shrieked, hopping up and down. The entire hall became dead silent, everyone intrigued by the outburst. 

Zell and Irvine had their attention to the small girl, who, after seeing them stop fighting, was satisfied and skipped off to find Sir Laguna. 

--------------------

"Laguna Laguna Laguna!" Selphie chanted gaily near the president's ear. Laguna was only vaguely aware of her presence, mind too absorbed in the prize he was about to win. 

"Laguna Laguna Laguna!" continued the chorus. Selphie now resorted to dancing around the older man. Her bouncy, off-beat steps closely resembled that of a rain dance or tribal sacrificial ritual. 

"Laguuuuunaaa! Sir Laguuuunaaaa!" 

Again and again and on and on. 

"Laguna, Laguna, Laguna, Laguna, La-" 

"FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING GOOD AND HOLY, SHE'S TRYING TO TALK TO YOU!" Squall spazzed, entire body twitching. 

Laguna came out of his trance appearing groggy. "Hmm? Oh! Selfish, it's you!" 

"Her name is Selphie," Squall growled, more to himself than to correct his father. Why bother correcting Laguna when, in five minutes time, he would forget Squall had even spoken to him? 

"Ah, yes that's right," Laguna replied lightly, eyes still slightly glazed. "Did you want something?" 

"I want a knife," grumbled Squall, and again this comment went unnoticed. 

Selphie stopped prancing around and instead hopped slightly in place. "Some strange men just entered, Sir Laguna! Do you know them? Who are they? It's your party, they were probably looking for you!" 

"If we're lucky, they're from the insane asylum." By this time Squall had given up the courtesy of being discreet and decided to say things loudly. Not that it mattered. No one listened to him, anyway. 

"Strange looking men? Really?" This piqued Laguna's interest. He stretched his neck like a giraffe and stood on tip-toes to get a better look. Squall gave a disgruntled frown as Selphie was only 5'1 1/2" and a wiener dog - on all fours - could see over her without difficulty. 

"I see them! There they are!" He began waving frantically. "Here I am! ...Where are they going? No, wrong way, I'm over _heeere_!!" 

Laguna returned his heels to the floor and looked at Selphie briefly. "I'd better go greet them," he announced and sped off. 

--------------------

Laguna pushed through the small crowd which oddly seemed to be getting bigger. In fact, he didn't recognize anyone he passed and he'd lost all sight of Squall and his friends, or acquaintances, or whatever the kid wanted to call them. 

The two men from the radio station were dressed in black and wearing sunglasses, looking as if they'd just escaped from a Matrix RPG. Laguna shoved a young man out of his way (and into a decorative iron maiden) and continued his quest to catch up with the disc jockeys and claim his prize. He could taste the grease already. 

As Laguna got closer, the men got farther away. Where were they going? Didn't they hear him yelling? Laguna increased his pace. The men were heading toward the back corner. They were heading toward Ward and Kiros. 

--------------------

Kiros and Ward stared silently at the men in front of them. They were being inspected up and down, they were being whispered about. The guy on the left scoffed. 

"Did you want something?" questioned Kiros finally, his tone low. It was as much of a warning as the two would get before he punched them in the face. 

"Can you verify that you are the man in this picture?" asked the man on the right. He outstretched his arm and flashed Kiros and Ward a photograph. 

"Ugh." Kiros grunted in disgust. It was the first time he'd seen the picture Laguna snapped and it wasn't taken at a very flattering angle. 

"Yeah, that's me. Sorry you had to see it. I'm afraid I'm not photogenic." 

"You are Mr. Loire?" 

Ward turned to see how Kiros would respond. A wicked grin crept across the shorter man's mouth. He realized who these people were. 

Kiros waved his hand. "Yes. Yes, that's me," he replied airily. 

"In that case..." The man reached into his coat, searched a pocket for something and then - 

"CONGRATULATIONS!!" A spray of confetti rained from his clenched fist and into Kiros' eyes. "You've just won a year's supply of free pizza!" 

Trumpets blared off in the distance, the lights in the room flared red and blue, people dressed in peasant costumes danced and cheered. Laguna's jaw dropped to the floor. 

"Me... Me..." the president sputtered, pointing to himself. His whimpering was overshadowed by the loud noises of celebration. 

The sudden outburst of cheer was enough to stop Zell and Irvine in their tracks, which was lucky for Zell considering he was in a headlock. Quistis looked around in slight amusement. Selphie didn't miss a beat as she continued dancing along with the new music. Rinoa laughed and clapped while Squall stood in horror. Lights...too bright...happiness...too much. The room began to spin for the leader of Garden. 

"Here's your certificate, sir!" said the man, handing Kiros a slip of paper. Flashes of lights came from the crowd, though Kiros couldn't tell exactly from where. 

He squinted his eyes, cheesy smile still plastered on his face as he accepted the gift graciously. The second man threw a microphone at Kiros and asked him to say a few words. Kiros had no trouble performing under the watchful eye of the crowd and began riddling off the names of people he'd like to thank, from his parents to his teammates to the Moombas in the Desert Prison to people he made up. 

Unable to take much more of this, Laguna finally squeezed his way to the front and stepped in-between Kiros and the men from the radio station. 

"Stop! Stop!" he yelled. The crowd fell silent, unaware of who this maniac was and afraid of what he might do since he was obviously intoxicated. 

"**I** am Mr. Loire! Me! That's _my_ certificate, that's _my_ pizza!" 

"Who is this crazy man??" demanded the guy on the left. The disc jockey shrugged, as did Kiros. 

"Wait a minute!" came a voice from the back. "That's the president!!" 

Gasps all around. Squall smacked his forehead. 

"The president??" parroted the disc jockey. "How marvelous! The _president_ has even come to wish this man congratulations!" 

The crowd cheered at the kind gesture of their leader. 

"What?" grunted Laguna indignantly. "No, no, this-" 

"HOW NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN, Mr. President!" Kiros patted Laguna on the back good-naturedly. 

"But-" 

The disc jockey wrapped an arm around Laguna's shoulder, twisting him to face the crowd. "Isn't it great that our fearless leader cares _that much_ as to take time out of his busy schedule to mingle with the commoners?" 

The guests shook their heads in agreement. Laguna was stuck. 

"And so, Mr. Loire..." 

Laguna's lip quivered as the disc jockey's arm reached out past him to shake Kiros' hand. 

"You will never be hungry again!" 

The room erupted as Kiros raised the certificate in victory. Another streak of lights flashed as camera men caught the moment on film. This would definitely be on the front page of Sunday's newspaper. 

--------------------

"No, no mushrooms. That's right. Uh-huh, extra cheese." 

Laguna stared murderously at his once-teammate-and-friend, Ki... No, he no longer said that name, not even in his thoughts. 

"No need to tell me the price, I've got a certificate right here-" Kiros waved the slip of paper about. "-That says I get free pizza from you for a year. ...Why yes, yes _I am_ Mr. Loire." 

Laguna grunted quite audibly and turned his head to face the other way, refusing to acknowledge Kiros even after he hung up the phone. 

"Still mad?" Kiros ventured. He couldn't suppress the small smile creeping up his lips. 

Laguna huffed, arms crossed over his chest. 

"I got your favorite toppings," he continued, walking - cautiously - closer. "You want a piece?" 

"No," replied Laguna in spite of himself. 

Kiros looked down at the president who was balled up in his chair pouting like a child. He extended his hand, certificate waving in Laguna's face. Laguna peeked over out of the corner of his eye and blinked in surprise. 

"You knew I wasn't going to-" 

Before he could even finish, Laguna snatched the slip away and held it protectively against his chest, hugging the piece of paper as best as anyone can hug a piece of paper. 

"-keep it." Kiros raised an eyebrow, though somehow he had expected a similar reaction...if not something much stranger. Taking a cue, he quietly exited the room, leaving Laguna and his gift certificate to their privacy. 

Laguna got his pizza, Kiros got revenge for the antelope prank, and Ward got to buy his favorite sitcom on DVD, though he had to pay for that himself. Everyone was happy and when everyone is happy, that means it's the end. :) 


End file.
